


Though the sword hidden (may wound)

by muzzleofbees



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 8.17 promo, I don't know why I have to be so sad all the time, No Spoilers, Other, Speculation, it's just they hurt my heart so much, oh my god I'm so sorry guys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-06
Updated: 2013-03-06
Packaged: 2017-12-04 10:56:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/709994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muzzleofbees/pseuds/muzzleofbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on the extended promo for 8.17, which I saw once, and contains absolutely no spoilers in any way, shape or form. </p>
<p>Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation--Khalil Gibran</p>
            </blockquote>





	Though the sword hidden (may wound)

**Author's Note:**

> Based on characters in Supernatural, which I of course do not own or profit from, and that is probably for the best because I like it when Dean cries.

 

Dean knew what _gone_ meant.

 

His dad was gone. Ellen was gone. Bobby was gone. Gone and never coming back. When the dust settled and the smoke cleared, Dean was always alone. Practically goddamned indestructible. Even Sammy went away, Dean was never gone. He always took another breath and saw another day and made another choice. He was always right fucking there.

 

But Cas wasn't anymore.

 

The fist swooped in from the left, blindsiding him, sending him flying back into Baby with enough force to shatter the driver's side window. The pain in his back couldn't begin to meet the pain in his face. And that couldn't touch the searing agony in his chest, flaring red with every beat of his heart. He pulled himself upright, forced himself to find his feet and keep his legs under him. He couldn't fight back—every swing was blocked and countered until Dean was a broken mess--but he wasn't going to die on his knees.

 

“Cas.”

 

The angel's blue eyes were hard. No sign of recognition, much less affection. He didn't even seem to understand Dean was using his name. The syllable bubbled out of his broken mouth on a burst of blood. Sammy wasn't going to get there in time. He was locked in his own fight, willing his way through the trials that were meant for him. But Dean was all that stood between Castiel and Sam, and he needed to buy every second he could. Every fucking second.

 

“Stay down,” Cas growled, pulling his arm back for another blow. He could have finished Dean with that hit, but he missed Dean's heart. He staggered, doubling over to cough up a mouthful of blood. He heaved scarlet then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

 

“Not gonna stay down, Cas. Not for you.”

 

The ground shook beneath him and a high-pitched noised threatened to shatter his eardrums. It went on and on, becoming a sound so terrible Dean couldn't hear it, only feel it from his teeth to his balls. Something broke in his skull, and blood dribbled from his ears. He clutched his head, unable to look up, unable to defend himself from the boot aimed at his ribs. He felt at least two break from the angel's strength, and the next breath was like hot glass breaking through his lungs. Instead of going in for the blow, Castiel staggered back, giving Dean a chance to roll to his knees. He didn't know if he had anything but he dug deep.

 

“Please.” The word was so desperate, so close to begging, that Dean thought it must have come from his own throat. But through the red haze of blood, he saw a flash of anguish on the angel's otherwise impassive face. “Please stay down, Dean.”

 

Lightning flashed and shook the world with its thunder. Dean saw the light in Castiel's eyes, heard the thunder in the rapid beating of his own heart. The clouds ripped open, dropping thick sheets of water, almost thick enough to be walls separating them. The blood washed from Dean's face, clearing his vision. He found what he needed to push him back to his feet.

 

“Kill me, Cas. Kill me if that's what you need to do.”

 

The familiar sword appeared from Castiel's sleeve, fitting snugly in the palm of his hand. One blow, directly through the heart would do him in. He'd be gone, too. Maybe his own little slice of heaven, but more likely, his own private suite in hell. Dean was hoping for darkness. Hoping that when he was gone, he was _done_.

 

Hoping to never see Castiel's face again.

 

_Keep going, Sammy. Keep going._

 

“Cas, buddy, I know you're still there. I need you to hear me. I need you to _help us_. After...” he lost his breath in a broken breath. “After everything. Look at me, Cas.”

 

The angel was suddenly in his face, toe-to-toe. Dean saw the fat drops of rain hanging on his lips. He lifted his chin, looking directly into a stranger's eyes. One day, Cas may come back. One day, Cas may remember. And if he ever did, then he would by god remember that Dean Winchester died on his feet.

 

An eternity passed. His legs shook. His impulse was too reach out and touch the angel one more time, like if they had that physical connection, Cas would return. Castiel raised his hand and pressed the tip of the blade against Dean's heart. It pricked his flesh, breaching the skin to add another stream of blood to the sea building at his feet. Castiel increased the pressure just enough to dig in centimeter by centimeter, and holy fuck, was he really going to prolong it? Was he going to make Dean experience every second of the betrayal? This was worse than Alistair's torture and that fucking _broke_ him. But nothing ever hurt this much.

 

Castiel's fingers went lax and the blade fell away, landing between them, the hilt resting on Dean's boot.

 

“Pick...it up...Dean.”

 

Dean bent his knees, never taking his attention from the angel, kicking the sword up into his hand. The ice mask melted. He saw the face he prayed for so many nights. The relief was almost enough to do what Castiel's fists couldn't, and he reached out to steady himself, gripping the angel's arm like he would never let go. For all the times Castiel pushed him away and turned his back, and for all the times Dean returned the favor, he was _not_ going to let go now.

 

“Use it.”

 

“I...”

 

“Dean. Please.”

 

Cas was there now, begging him to end it all right there. The sooner he killed Cas, the sooner he could get on to Sam. But he couldn't do it. No more than he could kill his brother. Cas tilted his head and covered Dean's hand, raising it to place the blade directly between them, over Cas's heart. Holding the sword steady, he drove himself forward, pressing his chest against Dean's. The water dripped from his face, splashed on Dean's bloody mouth.

 

Cas gasped, his eyes widening, and instead of throwing himself clear of the blast radius, he pulled Cas closer. They fell to their knees together.

 

“Dean, I...”

 

“I know.”

 

Their lips were so close he could feel Cas try to form another word. But he couldn't give it voice before light erupted from his mouth and eyes. His head dropped back, his destroyed grace shooting back into the dark sky. Then he slumped against Dean, his head falling onto his shoulder.

 

Cas was gone.

But Dean was still drawing breath. So he did the only thing he could do. He found his feet and he went to join the fight, leaving the empty vessel alone in the rain.


End file.
